


Interlude

by abrae



Series: In the Fullness of Time [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Understanding, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrae/pseuds/abrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary sees what John can't - or won't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**April, 2025**

  
Anna is flying out of the car almost before it’s come to a stop, provoking an alarmed “Hey!” from her father in the passenger’s seat. By the time he and Mary are climbing out, she’s already run halfway across the wide, low-tide beach towards the dark figure perched on the rocks. 

"Sherlock!" Anna squeals with a wide wave of her arms; he looks up, squinting into the sunlight, his answering expression as much grimace as smile.

"Mind the crabs," he calls out, and Anna deftly dances around a small group gathered near a cluster of stones. John watches them from in front of the car as Mary comes up beside him and slips her arm in his. 

"I think someone’s got a bit of a crush," she murmurs, leaning close, and John lets loose a soft snort.

"Good thing it’s Sherlock, then," he says, a smile lighting his eyes at the sight of long arms flying open, trying in vain to keep Anna from flitting over and around his precious experiments. At his words, Mary turns to look at John, her eyes traveling quickly over clipped, windswept hair, sunshine warming the grey. His expression is relaxed in a way it would be easy - tempting - to credit to the rejuvenating effects of the seaside air, but Mary knows they could be in London and John would look the same way, as long as Sherlock was in his sights.

"What d'you mean?" she asks.

Anna is squatting next to Sherlock now, peering at some small thing resting in the palm of his hand. They're well-matched in their curiosity, Sherlock's wonder only slightly less wide-eyed than that of her daughter.

John clears his throat. 

"Well, it's Sherlock, isn't it? Except for Janine, I've never known him to be with anyone, and even she... " John gives Mary a wry smile, his eyes shuttered in that way they get whenever those days come up. He shrugs.

"Just, I don't think he's ever felt that way, for anyone."

Mary's long since lost any sense of surprise that John doesn't - can't, or maybe won't - see what's clear to anyone with eyes. It should reassure; John is unquestionably hers, and has been since that gut-wrenching Christmas so long ago. He's made good on his promise to her, and not a day goes by that she doesn't remember - how it might have gone, how much she had to lose.

And perhaps it's because she knows exactly what she has in John that she knows equally well what Sherlock has missed all these years. Mary knows, in a way that's never even occurred to her husband, why Sherlock lasted in London only a few years more, before retreating to the white solitude of the Sussex shore. She knows why Sherlock never visits them, yet always smiles in his soft, crinkly-eyed way when they come. It's Anna, a bit, and herself, but mainly it's John, and she wishes... what, she doesn't know.

"Mmm," Mary replies noncommittally. Then she tightens her grip on John's arm and gives his hand a pat. 

"Come, husband," she says. "Let's go see what he's got going today."

John nods - they head towards the shore; and only now does Sherlock stand and, suddenly heedless of what havoc Anna might wreak on his delicate experiments, smile softly at John in the distance.


End file.
